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“ I’m most sure ’t was a bear — See page 20 


2rj)e Book (^eries^K- 'S'2 


Two AND A Half 


KATE VV.5^^ILT0N 


AUTHOR OF “THE ROYAL , SERVICE,” “RACHEL’S SHARE OF 
THE ROAD,” ETC. 



BOSTON AND CHICAGO: 
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Copyright, 1S91, by 

Congregational Sunday-School and Publishing Society. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PACE 

1 . Josey’s Boots 5 

II. Trying to be a Woman 25 

III. A Barber’s Shop 44 

IV. Extra Good 60 


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I 


TWO AND A HALF. 


CHAPTER I. 
josey’s boots. 

There were two boys and one g’irl 
in the family; “two boys and a half,” 
Nancy Hopkins said, and by the “ half” 
she meant Mabel. Nancy came to the 
house to help sometimes when there 
was extra work to be done, and so she 
knew the children very well ; but she 
could not understand why Mabel should 
want to climb and play house because 
Josey did, even though the two were 
twins. 

“ Why, Josey ’s a boy and you ain’t ; 

5 


6 


T^VO AND A HALF. 


that makes a difference, and you ought 
to be nice and quiet like a little girl,” 
Nancy often said. But Mabel never 
felt much difference until the day that 
Josey’s boots came. She was glad that 
Nancy was n’t there that day to say 
anything about it. ' 

His old shoes were worn out at the 
toes, as Josey’s shoes had a fashion of 
being at intervals, and mamma was too 
busy to attend to the matter ; so papa 
had been sent to the store, and these 
boots were what he brought home. 

“ Oh ! why did you ” — began mamma 
in dismay, when she saw the package 
opened. But Josey’s delight rose so 
fast and high that her question was 
quite smothered and never fully fin- 
ished. 

“ For you see, now I ’ve got ’em, I 
shall have to wear ’em always,” he ex- 


JOSEY^S BOOTS. 


7 


plained confidentially to Mabel, “ ’cause 
folks don’t go backwards, they go 
ahead ; and a big boy that ’s had boots 
don’t ever have to wear shoes, like a 
girl, any more.” 

So those boots had stamped upstairs 
and down again ; they had tried to pull 
themselves off with the bootjack, but 
did n’t succeed, because the bootjack 
was “ no kind of size.” They came in 
from the garden with pants tucked 
inside of them, and they even tried to 
make the acquaintance of the blacking- 
brush ; but there Josey got the worst of 
it, judging from the small shining spots 
upon his boots and the woful black- 
ness of his nose and hands, as he looked 
in at the parlor door. 

All the forenoon it had been a ques- 
tion of considerable importance with 
Josey what he and Mabel should play. 


8 


TWO AND A HALF. 


Ordinary amusements did n’t seem quite 
large enough . for him now, and he 
planned various new projects to which 
the admiring little Mabel agreed, fol- 
lowing him up and down the long yard, 
quite sure that something brilliant was 
to be done. They borrowed knives 
from the kitchen, and dug wonderful 
cisterns, from which the water leaked 
out as fast as they could pour it in. 
Then they made some kites, of no par- 
ticular shape or style, and, after expend- 
ing a great amount of labor, paper, 
and string, found that they could n’t be 
coaxed into flying.. 

Now the early dinner was over, and 
the children did n’t know what to do 
next. Mabel stood by the gate, her 
head resting against it, her gypsy-hat 
pushed back, and her brown eyes so- 
berly studying the road where the 


JOSEY'S BOOTS. 


9 


bright spring sunshine seemed turning 
some of the grains of sand to gold. 
Josey sat upon the gatepost, swinging 
his heels, and whistling away at several 
tunesj all at once. He was rather sorry 
for Mabel, because she had n’t any new 
boots to look at when she had nothing 
else to do. 

Presently a boy came hurrying up 
the road, carrying several schoolbooks. 
Josey knew him; but he had been 
rather shy of him heretofore, as one 
of the “ big boys.” To-day he did not 
think there was much difference between 
them, and he called out quite patroniz- 
ingly, — 

“ Hello, Jim!” 

“ Hello, Chicken ! ” responded Jim 
good-naturedly. 

That name did n’t strike Josey as 
very flattering, but he persevered. 


lO 


TWO AND A HALF. 


“ Where ’re you going ? ” 

“ To pick blackberries in the Desert 
of Sahara,” answered Jim carelessly, giv- 
ing his atlas a hitch under his arm and 
pushing along. 

Josey meditated upon that informa- 
tion for a minute. 

“ Say ! ” he called, “ I don’t know 
where Sarah’s is.” 

“ You ’ll find out soon enough,” 
laughed Jim, looking back over his 
shoulder for an instant, and then hurry- 
ing forward again. 

Josey watched him silently until he 
disappeared from sight. 

“ I wish I did know. I ’d like to pick 
some, too,” he said regretfully. 

“ So would I,” said Mabel. “ Would 
n’t mamma like it, though ? ” she added, 
looking up, with her brown eyes sud- 
denly dancing. “ Would n’t she be 


JOSEY^S BOOTS. 


I I 

s’prised if she should come home and 
find we ’d picked her a nice lot of 
berries for tea ? ” 

Josey’s eyes caught the light at once. 
Such an enterprise as that seemed some- 
thing worthy of his new dignity. 

“ I don’t know where to find Sarah’s,” 
he said; “but I know where there ’s a 
woods, and I guess that would do just 
as well, ’cause berries grow in the 
woods, anyhow. We might go there 
and pick some.” 

“ All alone by our two selves ? ” 
asked Mabel, somewhat startled by the 
boldness of the proposition. 

“ Course. Why, I could take care of 
you. I ’m a pretty big boy, now., you 
know.” 

Mabel looked down at his feet. They 
were two pretty strong arguments. 

“ Yes,” she said hesitatingly. 


12 


TWO AND A HALF. 


“ You ask grandma, Mabel. Run 
and ask her if we can’t go,” suggested 
Josey. And Mabel turned toward the 
house. 

Poor grandma ! She was housekeeper 
that day ; and, somewhat tired with the 
unusual care and oversight of the morn- 
ing, had seated herself in her easy-chair 
to rest, and taken up her knitting. She 
was just in the most particular part of 
her work, counting the stitches care- 
fully, when a little voice broke in, — 

“ Grandma, may Josey and me pick 
blackberries ? ” 

“ Well, dearie ” (“ One, two, three, 
four ”) , answered grandma absently, 
looking through her spectacles straight 
at her stocking. 

“ Say, grandma, may we ? ” 

(“ Five, six, seven, eight!'^ ‘ ‘ Yes, yes, 
child ; pick all you can find ’n welcome. 


JOSEY^S BOOTS. 


13 


Only don’t trouble grandma now ; she ’ s 
busy,” answered the old lady kindly. 

She had been asked that day if they 
might have the wheelbarrow for a “ car- 
riage to ride to Boston in ; ” whether 
they could not borrow the kitchen chairs 
to build a train of cars ; and if she 
would lend them some knives to dig a 
well with. Surely, this last request was 
no more remarkable than the others. 
She fancied it was some new game to be 
played in the backyard, and thought no 
more about it. 

Mabel caught up the two little pails 
they had used to carry water with in the 
morning, and flew back with the wished- 
for permission. 

“ She said we might pick every one 
we was a mind to,” she announced tri- 
umphantly. 

Josey slid down from his perch, un- 


14 TWO AND A HALF. 

fastened the gate, and the small boots 
and smaller shoes went trudging up the 
road together. The wood was at some 
distance from their home ; but, though 
Josey had never led the way before, he 
knew where to go, as he had said, and, 
in prospect of the wonders they were to 
accomplish, they did not mind the long- 
walk, but went chattering and laughing 
all the way. 

It was very pleasant in the old wood, 
when they reached it, with the patches 
of soft green moss under their feet, and 
the sunlight sifted down upon them 
through the branches of the great trees 
overhead. They sat down upon a trunk 
of a fallen tree to rest for a few minutes ; 
in fact, Josey could n’t resist the temp- 
tation of trying it for a horse. They 
agreed that a place like this was a great 
deal nicer to play in than any yard ; and 


JOSEY^S BOOTS. 


15 


decided that when they built a house it 
should be in the middle of a wood. 
Then Mabel caught sight of a cluster of 
bright flowers, and, with an exclamation 
of delight, sprang forward to gather 
them. Josey followed more slowly, and, 
after plucking a few blossoms himself, 
suggested that they should leave the 
rest until they came back. 

“ ’Cause, you see, if our hands are 
all full, we can’t pick the berries when 
we find ’em,” he argued. 

A squirrel went frisking past, and the 
two children started in hot pursuit — 
laughing, shouting, and running on and 
on, until the little gray-coat disappeared 
from sight, and they found themselves, 
tired and breathless, on the bank of a 
small stream. That was a pleasant place 
to rest again, and while they were doing 
it they amused themselves with throwing 


1 6 Tivo AND A HALF. 

pebbles into the water. Then Josey 
tried sailing a bark-boat down the 
stream, and was so successful that 
quite a fleet followed. It was hard to 
leave such a pretty, tempting nook, 
when they were enjoying themselves so 
much ; and they lingered, fitting out 
one odd craft after another, until more 
than an hour had passed before they 
recalled their original purpose and 
turned away. 

They had entirely lost sight of the 
road by which they came, and wandered 
up and down without any definite idea 
of where they were going ; only looking 
for berries on whatever bush of whatever 
description that came in their way. Not 
a berry appeared, however, and they 
rambled farther and farther, sure that 
every group of undergrowth they dis- 
covered in the distance must bear the 


JOSEY'S BOOTS. 


17 


longed-for fruit, and pressed on toward 
it, only to be disappointed. The long 
walk began to tell, at last, on Mabel’s 
little feet, unused to such continued 
traveling ; and they began to lag sadly. 
Josey urged her forward, and she tried 
to keep up bravely, until repeated fail- 
ures in finding what they sought almost 
disheartened her. 

“ I ’m afraid we won’t find ’em time 
enough for supper,” she remarked tim- 
idly, stealing a glance at Josey to see if 
he still looked hopeful and confident. 

His face had grown rather long and 
sober ; but he pushed right ahead and 
made no reply. Mabel caught her foot 
in a tangled vine and fell. Josey helped 
her up again, but she found it very hard 
work to keep from crying. By and by 
the trees began to grow fewer and fewer, 
and they came out of the wood, though 


t8 tpvo and a half. 

not on the side at which they had 
entered it. 

“ I guess the berries don’t grow any- 
where ’cept at Sarah’s. I wish I knew 
where to find it,” said Josey, pausing to 
look around him. 

The truth was, he -did n’t know where 
to find anything — not even the way 
home. They were in a long, open field 
now, and crossing it slowly, they climbed 
over a fence and stood in a road once 
more. Presently they saw some one 
walking toward them — a stout, rosy- 
faced girl, with a basket on her arm. 
Josey’s courage revived at once. He 
eyed the basket curiously as it drew 
near, and said, — 

“ Do you know where Sarah lives ?” 

“ Sarah who ? ” questioned the girl, 
stopping short. 

Josey hesitated and looked confused. 


JOSEY'S BOOTS. 


19 


“ My sister Sarah, do you mean ? ” 
said the girl. 

“I guess — I don’t know her other 
name,” stammered Josey. 

“What a child! Well, I should n’t 
wonder if it was my sister. Anyway, 
she ’s the only Sarah round here. She 
lives in that brown house you can just 
see the top of there. It ’s a good piece 
round by the road ; but it ain’t very far 
if you get over the fence and go through 
the field yonder.” 

The girl hurried on again. Josey 
wished he had asked about the berries ; 
but it was too late now, so he and 
Mabel walked away in the direction of 
“ Sarah’s.” They pressed forward si- 
lently, for Josey did n’t feel at all sure 
that “ Sister Sarah ” was the right one, 
and Mabel was beginning to wonder un- 
easily how they should ever get home. 


20 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


It was slow work crossing the field, too, 
for the ground was uneven and they 
were tired. They had accomplished 
more than half the distance, however, 
when a goat, that had been standing 
unobserved at the farther side of the 
enclosure, raised his head and came 
trotting gravely toward them. The two 
discovered him at the same moment, and 
stopped in utter dismay, but only for an 
instant. They had never seen such a 
creature before, and they turned in wild 
fright and flew over the ground with all 
the speed in their power. Josie looked 
back over his shoulder once and saw 
that the animal was walking after them. 
He did not look again until they had 
climbed, or rather tumbled, over the 
fence and reached the road. 

“I’m most sure ’twas a bear, Mab,” 
he said, his eyes round and wide. 


JOSEY'S BOOTS. 


2 I 

“ He was n’t ’fraid one bit ’cause you 
wore boots,” sobbed poor little Mabel in 
dismay at the weakness of this strong- 
hold. 

“ Course he did n’t care. Why, they 
ain’t afraid of a man,” explained Josey, 
anxious, even in his terror, that no slight 
should be cast upon his treasures. But 
Mabel cared for no explanations. She 
wanted to “go right straight home,” she 
said. So did Josey ; but he looked 
irresolutely up and down, not knowing 
in what direction to turn, and was finally 
obliged to falter out that he did n’t know 
what way they came. Mabel’s tears and 
sobs increased to a perfect tempest at 
that. Tired, frightened, homesick, her 
courage all gone, she threw herself down 
by the roadside, with her childish heart 
almost broken ; while Josey stood look- 
ing down at her, with his own lips 


22 


TfVO AND A HALF, 


quivering, a very sorry little pro- 
tector. 

A queer old wagon came rumbling 
up the road, drawn by a blind horse. 
A colored woman was driving, and she 
was old and queer, too ; but, oh ! how 
Josey’s eyes brightened when they s^w 
her. He knew her at once — the old 
woman who brought them vegetables. 

“ Mabel ! Mabel ! it ’s Hannah ! ” he 
said, as the wagon drew up beside them. 

“ Yes, it ’s me, sure ’nuff ; and it ’s 
you, too, honeys. But how came ye 
here? Dat ’s de question.” 

“ We ’re lost,” said Mabel dolefully. 

“ Not bad, I s’pose, kase I kin take 
ye right home. But I dunno how ye 
got d’ar here. Don’t cry, sissy ; jes’ 
climb in, an’ I ’ll find de way back fur 
ye.” And she helped the two little 
wanderers to clamber up, found them 
seats, and jogged on once more. 


JOSEY^S BOOTS. 


23 


A kind old heart had Aunt Hannah ; 
and, if her sides did shake with laughter 
now and then, while she listened to the 
story of their troubles, she could sym- 
pathize too. 

“ I dunno miffin’ what dat boy meant 
by Sarah’s ; but dare ain’t no berries due 
dis time of year, dat ’s sure. An’ I tell 
ye what I does know, children : when we 
sets out to please our frien’s — ’specially 
de bes’ Friend — it ’s safest to do de lit- 
tle tings round handy, what we ’re sure 
’bout. Kase, if we goes wanderin’ way 
off arter big ones, we mos’ gen’ally gits 
lost an’ never finds ’em. I ’ve lamed 
dat.” 

The sun had dropped low behind the 
hills when they reached home, and for 
the last two or three hours the whole 
household had been searching anxiously 
for the two children. A most marvelous 


24 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


dish of blackberries it must have been 
that could have called forth such a wel- 
come as was given them. 

Old Hannah was coaxed in to eat her 
supper, and all the afternoon’s wander- 
ings talked over. Grandma explained, 
and the children explained ; and every- 
body concluded that nobody was much 
to blame, and it was only a mistake all 
around. 

“ But, Josey, my boy,” said papa, as 
the little head nestled wearily on his 
arm, while he pulled off the soiled and 
dusty boots, “ when the shoes are laid 
aside, and we are old enough for these, 
we have to be very, very careful that 
they don’t walk us into wrong and 
crooked paths.” 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 


25 


CHAPTER 11. 

TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 

Mamma was sick one dreary week, and 
Nancy Hopkins, who came to keep 
house, was more than pleased that Josey 
should go with grandma to the country. 
She said there would be “ plenty of chil- 
dren left.” Mabel did not think so. 
She was wishing that she could have 
gone with Josey, or that Josey could 
have stayed with her, as she stood by 
the window, her small nose flattened 
against the pane, and her doleful little 
face looking out at the bright October 
sunlight. Nancy Hopkins might be a 
very good housekeeper for grown peo- 
ple (the apple turnover that Mabel had 


26 


Tl^FO AND A HALF. 


disposed of an hour before was cer- 
tainly nice), “but she don’t know 
nothin’ about keepin’ house for chil- 
dren,” said Mabel with a shake of her 
curly head. 

Nancy Hopkins was a good woman, 
everybody said; a “smart worker” she 
called herself. Her hair was always 
drawn in the smoothest and tightest 
way to a knot at the back of her head, 
and her striped calicoes were always 
clean. She flew about and “ put things to 
rights,” swept, dusted, and directed most 
vigorously; but she was not mamma, and 
so, when she came, half a dozen times 
a day, upon some scattered group of 
Mabel’s army of dolls ; when she found 
Bridget’s clean tables spattered with the 
flour and water that had been necessary 
for “ make-believe ” bakings ; or discov- 
ered dresses torn, and aprons wet, from 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 


27 


climbing- fences, and sailing boats in the 
rain-barrel, she was sorely disturbed. 
She was like a locomotive — she could 
go very fast, and do a great deal, so long 
as the road was clear ; but a very little 
thing would throw her off the track. 

“ Mabel, child, what does ail you, to 
hike about so, and get into everything ? 
Why can’t you be nice now, and act like 
a little woman ? ” she would exclaim in 
dismay. 

“ I don’t know,” said Mabel to herself, 
meditating upon the subject. “ Wish 
I just was a woman; then I ’spect I ’d 
act like one.” 

She began to wonder how it would 
seem to be grown-up. She stretched 
up on tiptoe, and surveyed the outside 
world from that height, and finally clam- 
bered upon a stool ; but even then she 
was not very tall. Suddenly a bright 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


idea struck her. There were Cousin 
Fred’s stilts ; why not mount them ? 
Then she would be as tall as any 
woman ! Mabel sprang from her perch, 
rushed out through the kitchen like a 
little whirlwind into the shed where 
the stilts were, and dragged them forth 
triumphantly. 

Mounting was a matter of some diffi- 
culty, as first one stick slipped, and then 
the other ; but at last she stood upon 
them both, rather unsteadily, and looked 
about her. The next thing was to walk. 
It had been easy enough to watch Fred 
do it ; but doing it herself was quite 
another affair. However, with much 
pulling, twisting, and staggering, she 
succeeded in coaxing her long, wooden 
limbs to take a few steps forward ; and 
then, just as she was beginning to gain 
confidence, she lost her footing, and she 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 


29 


and her poles fell flat on the ground 
together. 

“ Dear me ! what air you about 
now?” called Nancy from the doorway. 

Mabel slowly picked herself up, and 
as her bumped nose began to bleed, for- 
got all about her height and ladyhood, 
and walked crying into the house, where 
Nancy applied cold water and reproof in 
equal quantities. 

“ What did possess you to climb onto 
them things, anyhow ? They ain’t fit 
for nothin’ but boys — nor them neither. 
They just look like walkin’ clothes- 
frames when they ’re on ’em ; and for 
a little girl to try it — it ’s awful ! Why 
can’t you be quiet and nice like a little 
woman ? You never see your ma doin’ 
such things as that.” 

Mabel’s great eyes opened wide at the 
fancy of her mother traveling around on 


30 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


stilts ; but she expressed no opinion on 
the subject ; and, when Nancy had her 
washed and in order again, and the 
bleeding and scolding had both stopped, 
she slipped away into the parlor in a 
manner wonderfully quiet for her. In 
fact, she had resolved that she would be 
quiet ; and she sat slowly rocking to 
and fro in her low chair, with some new 
thoughts running through her curly 
head. 

She was n’t at all sure that she should 
like to be a woman, and never run, 
jump, or play any more. But then, she 
would have to be some day, so she sup- 
posed she might as well practice a little 
then. Nancy thought she ought to, and 
she would ; she would be a woman all 
the rest of the day. It seemed rather 
dull and solemn, though mamma never 
looked so. Mabel heaved a little lone- 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 


31 


some si^h, as she thought how pleasant 
and happy mamma looked, sitting there 
by that window with her work, when she 
^was well. She was always cheerful and 
busy, and never acted as if she wanted 
to play with dolls, or run races with 
Rover ; though, to be sure, she could n’t 
do that last very well with such long 
dresses as she wore. Mabel started, and 
glanced down at her plump little feet, 
encased in slippers and stockings. Long 
dresses — why, that was the very thing. 
If hers were only long, she should feel 
a great deal more like a woman, of 
course. So she deserted her rocking- 
chair, and flew upstairs to mamma’s 
room, to make herself over. 

It was hard finding anything to suit. 
The wardrobe was mostly too sober for 
her taste ; but she finally selected the 
brightest dress she could find, and after 


32 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


some trouble, succeeded in g’etting into 
it — as far into it as she could get ; 
but there was still great quantities of it 
dragging on the floor behind her, and 
such folds of it lying about her feet in 
front, that walking was a work of great 
difficulty. It would not answer at all, 
and she was feeling sadly disappointed 
when her eyes fell on a pretty purple 
overskirt, and her face brightened at 
once. An exchange was speedily made, 
and the new garment pinned about her 
waist. It was a trifle too long ; but it 
was much better than the other, and, if 
it had neither waist nor sleeves, her own 
pink calico beneath it supplied the defi- 
ciency, and Mabel was perfectly satis- 
fied. She paced back and forth, and 
looked admiringly over her shoulder to 
see the ruffles sweep after her, remark- 
ing over and over again, — 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 33 

“I look just like a lady. I do, just 
eszactly.” 

But what to do — that was the next 
question. She was sure she could n’t 
sit still all the afternoon, with her hands 
folded. She did not know how to sew 
or play the piano, and what grown-up 
employment could she find ? A parasol 
peeping out of a closet answered her. 

“ Go and make calls,” it said. 

“ So I will,” said Mabel delighted. 

Mamma does that ; and it ’s nice, 
•’cause I ’ve been ’long with her some- 
times.” 

It was n’t play either ; it was something 
useful. Had n’t she heard mamma say, 
only a day or two before she was taken 
sick, that she must call on some new 
people near them ; that it was a duty to 
be kind to strangers ? Mabel grew bet- 
ter and better pleased the more she 


34 


TWO AND A HALF. 


thought about it. She tied a last win- 
ter’s bonnet over her yellow curls (she 
liked it best because of the bright flow- 
ers), pinned a blue scarf around her 
shoulders, buried her little hands in a 
pair of mamma’s kid gloves, and took up 
the parasol. 

She did n’t ask any one if she might 
go — wo7nen did n’t have to do that. 
She just trudged down the stairs, and 
out the door, quite independently. 

Little three-year old Georgie sat on 
the ground by the gate, busily gath- 
ering pebble-stones into a tin cup. 
Mabel paused and resolved to share her 
pleasure. 

“ Want to go ’long with me, Georgie ? ” 

“Yes,” said Georgie promptly, drop- 
ping his cup. 

Mabel helped him to his feet, and they 
started off together. It was the new 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 


35 


people Mabel meant to visit. She was n’t 
quite sure that the neighbors who 
knew her would understand about her 
being a woman, even if she did look like 
one ; so she took her way to a house 
where she had seen a load of goods car- 
ried in a week or two before, and rapped 
bravely at the door. 

A schoolboy, some fourteen or fifteen 
years old, answered it ; looked at the two 
children for an instant, and then burst 
into a peal of laughter that made the 
house ring. 

“ Annie, Annie, do come here ! ” he 
called. 

A young lady came and stood beside 
him, only to join in his mirth for a mo- 
ment, though she tried to control her- 
self, and ask soberly, — 

“ What do you want, dear ? ” 

‘‘ I came to make a call,” Mabel an- 


36 


TPVO AND A HALF. 


swered shyly, her cheeks beginning to 
flush painfully under all this fun that she 
could not comprehend. 

“ You did ? Well, that was very kind. 
Won’t you walk in ? ” said the young 
lady, the corners of her mouth twitching, 
while the boy laughed again. 

Mabel, holding tightly to Georgie’s 
hand, followed them into the sitting- 
room, and took the chair that was offered 
her. 

“ Had n’t you better put down your 
umbrella, ma’am ? It does n’t seem to 
be raining much indoors,” said the 
teasing schoolboy. 

Mabel’s brown eyes gazed at him se- 
riously, but she put down her parasol. 

“ How are all your people at home ?” 
inquired the young lady. 

“ Asleep, probably,” suggested the 
boy. 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 


37 


“ No, they ’re pretty well — only 
mamma,” answered Mabel gravely. 
“ How ’s yours ? ’ ’ 

“ Very well, thank you.” 

“ Much amused, thank you,” added 
the boy. 

“ Charlie, do be quiet,” said the young 
lady. “ Will you tell me your name, 
dear ? ” 

“ Mabel Rivers,” answered the little 
caller, her eyes fixed wonderingly upon 
Charlie. There seemed no end to his 
laughing ; and she thought it very queer. 
She was n’t sure she knew quite the 
right thing to say next ; but after a 
minute’s silence she ventured upon it. 

“ Do you like tea-parties ?” 

“ Yes, sometimes.” 

“ Well, when I have one, I ’spect 
maybe I ’ll ask you.” 

Whereupon Charlie laughed again. 


38 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


and the young lady also. Mabel did n’t 
understand it; but she felt sure that this 
was not quite the way in which mamma 
was treated when she went calling wit]-- 
her. 

“ I guess I ’ll have to go now,” she 
said, drawing Georgie toward the door. 

“ Come again,” called Charlie after 
her. But she was so glad to get away 
that she hurried down the walk without 
stopping to answer. 

She suspected that he was only mak- 
ing fun of her, though she could not in 
the least tell why. She felt rather hot 
and uncomfortable, and concluded it 
was n’t pleasant to be kind to strangers. 
Mamma might do it ; but she could n’t. 

“ We ’ll go to a nicer place than this, 
Georgie, — a real nice house,” she said, 
her spirits suddenly rising, as she recol- 
lected a call she had made with her 


TRYING TO BE A WO A/AN 


39 


mother, where grapes and flowers had 
been given her. “ I ’spect they ’ll know 
better than to laugh at folks, too. 
We ’ll have the best kind of times.” 

She walked so fast, in her eagerness, 
that poor little Georgie could only keep 
up with her by running ; and presented 
herself at the remembered door in full 
confidence. But the pleasant lady who 
had given the fruit was nowhere to be 
seen ; and only an old lady appeared, 
who looked at her sternly through her 
gold spectacles, and asked, — 

“ Why, what in the world are you 
doing here, rigged out in such style as 
that ? ” 

“ Why, they ’re nice things,” said 
Mabel, half frightened, looking first at 
her purple skirt and then at her ques- 
tioner, in astonishment. 

Humph ! your mother’s clothes, I 


40 


TWO AND A HALF. 


suppose. Do your folks know where 
you are, or what you are about ? ” 

“ I did n’t tell anybody,” answered 
Mabel, her eyelids drooping, and her 
voice beginning to tremble. 

“Then you ’re a very naughty girl — 
taking things without leave, and running 
away besides. Whose child are you ? ” 

“ I ’m makin’ a call, and I ain’t a 
child. I ’m a woman,” faltered Mabel, 
making a last effort to be womanly. 

“ No, you ’re not. You ’re just a 
mischievous, troublesome child ; and 
somebody is wondering where you are, 
and worrying about you, I have n’t a 
doubt. Here, let me look at you. Mrs. 
Rivers’s little girl, I do believe ! Ain’t 
you ? And your mother sick, too ! 
Well, it ’s a pity there is n’t some one 
to look after you better, for you need it. 
Now, you run right home as quick as 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN 


4 ^ 


you can go, and mind you never try 
such a thing again.” 

Poor little Mabel ! She turned away 
sobbing, and it only needed the rude 
boys who laughed at her in the street, 
and the great dog that barked and fright- 
ened her, to complete her troubles. 
And she reached home quite heart- 
broken, with wee Georgie crying in 
sympathy. Right past the warm- 
hearted Bridget, without heeding her 
exclamations of wonder and surprise, 
she went straight to mamma’s door. 
Nobody else would answer then. 

“ Dear, dear ! such a lookin’ image 
as you air ! ” cried Nancy, as she caught 
sight of her. “ You must n’t go in 
there, now. Your ma wants to sleep. 
What under the sun have you been 
doin’ ? ” 

“ I want to see my mamma,” was the 


42 


TWO AND A HALF. 


only reply. And a weak voice called, 
“ Let her come in.” So Nancy opened 
the door. 

An odd, funny, forlorn little figure it 
was that rushed to the bedside. Even 
mamma laughed from among her pil- 
lows, as she looked at it ; but, as her 
thin hand smoothed the tangled curls 
the while, and Mabel could cry on the 
same pillows, she did not much care. 
Little by little the whole story of her 
troubles was told. 

“And I was trying to be good, too, 
mamma,” she added disconsolately. 

“ Yes, dear. But, if you had played 
with Georgie at home, and just tried to 
be good little folks, instead of big ones, 
don’t you think you would have suc- 
ceeded better ? You were trying to do 
somebody else’s duty, instead of your 
own ; and that is a mistake often 


TRYING TO BE A WOMAN. 


43 


made by older people than my little 
Mabel.” 

“ Don’t you want me to be a woman, 
mamma ? ” asked Mabel wonderingly. 

“ Sometime, away in the long years, 
I hope you will be a true, noble woman, 
but not yet. No, I want you just my 
own little girl for a good while longer. 
God has use in the world for children, 
too. If he had meant you should be a 
woman, now, don’t you think he would 
have made you one ? ” 

“ I guess Nancy don’t know about 
that,” said Mabel, looking up brightly 
through her tears. “ Mamma, if you ’ll 
tell her, I won’t wear your clothes any 
more, and I ’ll be as good a girl as 1 
can. ’Cause I ’spect that ’s what I ’m 
wanted for, if I don’t spoil it trying to 
make somethin’ else.” 


44 


TWO AND A HALF. 


CHAPTER III. 

A BARBER S SHOP. 

Mabel had been promoted to what 
she called a “ really, truly school,” 
because it was not the kindergarten 
room. She was learning to write a 
little, but it really did seem as if some- 
body had forgotten what a very small 
girl she was. 

“ I do wish,” she said, pushing her 
pen so deeply into the ink that her fin- 
gers grew sadly blackened, “ I just do 
wish that when folks make copy-books 
they ’d put nice short words in the 
copies.” 

“What is it?” asked Cousin Fred, 
looking up from his algebra. 


A BARBER^S SHOP. 


45 


“ ‘ Avoid the small beginnings of 
evil/ and it ’s pretty long to write, 
and I don’t know anything about it,” 
answered Mabel, mixing up her copy 
and her opinion of it rather curiously. 
But Fred understood. 

“That is pretty long. I ’ll tell you 
what it means, and then it will seem 
easier,” he began patronizingly, for he 
rather liked to exhibit his knowledge 
before his little cousin, who had a great 
respect for it. This time, however, she 
cut his explanation short. 

“ Oh ! I don’t want to know now, 
’cause I ’m tired of it ; and anyway, I ’m 
^ done writing for to-day. I won’t show 
it to mamma yet, for Miss Rebecca ’s 
in the parlor, and I guess she ’s a nice 
visitor for grown people, but she is n’t 
a bit nice for children. She says they 
ought to be ‘ seen and not heard,’ and 


46 


TWO AND A HALF. 


— there ’s Hetty McKensie this minute ! 
We ’ll go ’way upstairs and have a 
splendid time,” and away Mabel flew, 
curls and sash streaming. 

In a very short time Mrs. Hetty Mc- 
Kensie had set up housekeeping in one 
corner of the attic, with a fine row of 
large pumpkins for chairs, a sofa of pil- 
lows, and an elegant center-table that 
looked like an old chest covered with 
a shawl. She had three children — a 
china daughter, who was a cripple ; a 
wax baby, who seemed to have suffered 
from smallpox ; and a small rubber 
damsel without any nose. She had 
just finished dressing them all when 
Mrs. Mabel, who lived in a fine man- 
sion in another corner of the attic, came 
over to make her first call. 

Mrs. Mabel wore an old straw bonnet 
that was several sizes too large for her 


A BARBEK^S SHOP. 


47 


head, and a trailing dress that looked 
wonderfully like one of mamma’s kitchen 
aprons, fastened on wrong side before. 

'She carried a very tattered parasol in 
one hand, and a very fleshy rag-baby in 
the other ; but she was quite grand and 
stately, for all that, as she knocked at 
her neighbor’s door. 

“ How do you do ? I ’m very glad 
to see you,” said Mrs. McKensie very 
politely. “ Take a seat.” And she 
lifted a pumpkin by its short stem, and 
placed it for her visitor. 

“ What nice chairs you have ! ” said 
Mabel, seating herself and tilting back- 
ward and forward. “ This one rocks 
bea-^-ti-ful ! ” 

It rocked rather too beautifully, for 
the next minute it rolled over alto- 
gether, and deposited Mrs. Mabel, her 
parasol, and baby on the floor. Mrs. 


48 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


McKensie dropped upon her sofa and 
laughed, without trying to offer any 
excuse or aid ; and the visitor picked 
up herself and baby, looking a little 
offended. 

“ I don’t think I 11 buy such chairs for 
my house,” she remarked. “ I should n’t 
want all my children to break their heads 
tipping over in them.” 

“I ’ll send that chair right off to the 
blacksmith and get it mended,” said 
Mrs. Hetty, returning to propriety. “ I 
think your baby is pretty good. It 
did n’t cry a bit.” 

“ Yes,” answered Mrs. Mabel, quite 
pleased; “it ’s the most sweetest child 
I ’ve got. Why, it ’s had the mumps 
and the measles and the diptheory awful 
bad. And once it fell and broke its 
back, and never cried a bit when the 
doctor set it.” 


A BARBER'S SHOP. 


49 


“ Well, my little girls are real good, 
too ; only they ’ve all got the scarlet- 
fever,” announced Hetty. “What do 
you think I 'd better give ’em to make 
’em well ? ” 

“ Oh! put their feet in boiling water, 
and give ’em lots of brimstone and set- 
tling powders. That ’ll cure ’em in 
half an hour,” said Mabel with an air 
of wisdom. 

“ But I can’t bathe my china little 
girl’s feet, ’cause she has n’t any,” urged 
Mrs. Hetty. “ Her name is Eliza Ame- 
lia ; and I guess once, when she was a 
little girl, she sat down on the railroad 
track to tie her shoes, and the cars must 
have come along and cut ’em right off. 
Anyway, she has n’t any feet at all.” 

Mabel pityingly suggested that “may- 
be it would do just as well to dip her 
head in the hot watei ; ” and then the 


50 


TWO AND A HALF. 


two young housekeepers began to dis- 
cuss other subjects, and some wonderful 
directions for making pies and cakes 
were very gravely given. Mabel was 
about departing, and was urging her 
friend to come and take* tea with her, 
when her bright eyes discovered an end 
of scarlet tape hanging from an old box, 
and, forgetting her invitation, she ran at 
once to pull the gay string from its 
hiding-place. 

“Is n’t it a pretty color, Hetty ? I ’ll 
make something nice with it.” 

“ What ? ” asked Hetty. 

But Mabel had not decided. She 
first twined it around her rag baby, then 
ried its effect looped upon the wall, 
and finally wound it around a broken 
broom-handle, and, fastening it at each 
end with a pin, made the stick stand 
upright by placing it in a knot-hole in 
the floor. 


A BARBER'S SHOP. 


51 


“ I shall have it for a great stick of 
candy growing in my front yard ” she 
said. 

“ Candy does n’t grow,” objecte. 
Hetty. 

“Yes, it does; ’cause candy and 
sugar ’s all the same, and Fred said 
sugar grew in canes. And this is a 
candy-cane, only it has n’t got any knob 
at the top,” argued Mabel. 

Hetty looked doubtful ; but before 
she had time to reply the attic door 
was pushed open, and Josey and little 
George came in. They were tired of 
playing alone, and had come upstairs to 
see what the girls were doing. 

“What are you playing? We ’ll stay 
up here, too,” said Josey, gazing about 
the room. “ Holloa ! there ’s a barber’s 
pole.” 

“ No, it ’s candy,” said Mabel. 


52 


TWO AND A HALF. 


“ Well, it looks like a striped pole, 
anyway. Oh ! I ’ll tell you. Let George 
and me have it to keep a barber-shop 
with, and then you bring all your chil- 
dren to get their hair cut.” 

It was a very amiable neighborhood, 
for the two families at once moved into 
one house, so that Mabel’s corner could 
be given up as a barber’s shop. Then 
they procured a chair, a towel, some 
brushes, and a basin of soapsuds, and 
business commenced briskly. The num- 
ber of children the two ladies brought, 
and the way in which their hair grew, 
was remarkable. But after sopping and 
scraping the china dolls and rubber 
dolls a few times, and applying restora- 
tives to the bald head of the rag baby, 
Josey began to want a better subject for 
his skill — hair that would cut in real 


earnest. 


A BARBER^S SHOP. 


53 


“ Let me do yours, Georgie,” he said. 

“ Well,” answered Georgie innocently, 
climbing into the chair. 

“ Will mamma like it ? ” questioned 
Mabel a little hesitatingly. 

“ Why, she said the other day it was 
getting too long, and he must have it 
cut off,” answered Josey, fastening the 
towel around Georgie’s neck. 

Mabel was satisfied, and Josey lathered 
and rubbed and combed and clipped 
to his heart’s content. The two little 
women became so interested in this per- 
formance that they gave up housekeep- 
ing entirely, deserted their children, and 
went into the barbering business them- 
;Ives. 

“ It don’t look as if he had much hair 
left on his head,” said Mabel, when 
Georgie was finished. “ I guess it ’s 
’cause it ’s wet and sticks down so.” 


54 


TWO AND A HALF. 


She and Hetty wanted to do Josey’s 
then, and Josey was perfectly willing. 
It was great fun. They made him shut 
his eyes, to keep out the soapsuds : 
and they curled and brushed, — one 
combing on one side of his head, and 
the other cutting on the other side — 
and an odd-looking head it was when 
they were done. 

“ It feels just jolly, I tell you,” said 
Josey. “ Now, you girls must have 
yours done, too.” 

Hetty was ready enough. She always 
did things first and thought about them 
afterward. She “just liked short hair,” 
she said, and “ did n’t care if they cut it 
all off.” And she sat and laughed, and 
declared that it “ felt splendid,” until 
Mabel felt a great desire to try the ex- 
periment. She grew reluctant, though, 
when it came her turn. She did not at 



A Barber Shop. — See page 54. 





A BARBER^S SHOP. 


55 


all fancy the appearance of Hetty’s 
head, and she did not want to part 
with her own bright curls. 

“ I don’t want mine cut off short ; but 
you can clip just a little bit off the 
ends,” she said. 

“ Let me do it,” urged Georgie. 
“ I ’m a barber man, too, and you did n’t 
let me do one bit yet.” 

“ You ’re too little,” began Hetty. 
But Josey interrupted her. 

Oh ! let him cut just a little bit, if 
he wants to, while we ’re making up 
some more soapsuds, Hetty.” 

So Josey and Hetty busied them- 
selves in rubbing soap into a fresh 
basin of water and stirring it into a 
thick, white foam ; and Georgie was left 
to himself for a few minutes, during 
which he snipped away vigorously. 

“ O Georgie ! you ’ve got this side 


56 


TWO AND A HALF. 


shorter than the other ; you must make 
’em even,” said Josey, looking up. 

“ Yes,” answered Georgie contentedly. 

Now this is all stiff and frothy, anc* 
we ’ll rub it all over her head,” said 
Hetty presently. “ O Georgie ! you ’ve 
cut off ever so much of her hair ! ” 

Mabel started in dismay and began to 
feel of her locks. 

“That ’s ’cause they would n’t come 
even,” said Georgie soberly. “The 
more I cut ’em off the more they 
would n’t come even.” 

“ We ’ll have to cut it a little shorter 
to have it all alike, Mabel,” said Hetty 
comfortingly. 

But a very little would not answer - 
the purpose, after all ; for Georgie had 
tried some experiments in shingling, — 
“the way Josey did,” — and the last of 
Mabel’s long curls were gone before the 


A BARBER'S SHOP. 


57 


evening process was completed. Josey 
looked rather grave, though he repeated 
again and again that it would “ grow 
long in just a few days.” 

“ And Bridget can’t pull so when 
she combs it in the mornings,” added 
Georgie, quite satisfied with his share of 
the work. 

But Mabel’s face grew longer as her 
hair grew shorter ; and the moment 
Hetty’s scissors stopped she ran for 
the small mirror they had brought up 
among their playthings. One glance was 
enough, and she burst into tears. 

“ Oh, dear ! I just — look — like — 
a picked — chicken ! ” she sobbed, and 
started downstairs to find mamma. 
Nobody else could comfort her. 

The other children filed into the 
parlor after her, Josey looking some- 
what ashamed, Hetty frightened, and 


58 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


Georgie solemnly contented, as the 
sorrowful tale was told. How Cousin 
Rebecca did scold ! “ Hard enough 

for three mothers and a grandfather,” 
Hetty said afterward. 

“ Children are always in mischief ; 
and these ought to be sent to bed at 
once, and not allowed to stir out of the 
house again until their hair grows to 
be respectable. That would teach them 
not to meddle with it again,” said Miss 
Rebecca. 

But mamma was pretty sure they had 
learned that already, and she understood 
how they had done it without meaning 
any harm ; so she was very gentle, and, 
though she laughed, she almost cried, 
too, over the poor cropped little heads. 
So odd, ragged, and uneven the cutting 
was there was no remedy but a visit to 
the barber shop in good earnest, and 


A BARBER'S SHOP. 59 

four closely shorn children came home 
again. 

Mabel seemed quite pensive all that 
day ; but Cousin Fred laughed every 
time he saw her. 

“ I can explain your copy to you now, 
sis. You are a good illustration of it,” 
he said teasingly. 

“ No, you need n’t, ’cause I ’ve found 
out for myself,” answered Mabel, smooth- 
ing her short locks. “ It means, when 
things ought n’t to be cut off, don’t 
begin to snip ’round the edges. And I 
guess I ’ll remember it, ’cause folks 
must always learn something from their 
’flictions.” 


6o 


TPVO AND A JIALF. 


CHAPTER IV. 

EXTRA GOOD. 

“Take good care of grandma and 
Mabel,” said papa. 

“ Be as good a boy as you can, 
Josey,” said mamma. 

And those were the very last words 
as the carriage drove away from the 
gate. 

Josey went back into the house, feel- 
ing considerably older and several inches 
taller than usual. He had been allowed 
to sit up an hour later than his accus- 
tomed bedtime to see his father and 
mother and Georgie start for the depot. 
And then grandma and Mabel had been 
left in his charge. Certainly they 


EXTRA GOOD. 


6l 


needed somebody to take care of them, 
for grandpa had to be away nearly all 
day. Josey walked through the hall 
with long steps, pushed his hands down 
into his pockets, whistled, and thought 
what an important thing it was to be a 
large boy. As for being good, he would 
be that, of course. 

He thought about it the first thing 
next morning, and while he was waiting 
for breakfast he drew from his pocket a 
bit of pencil and a little notebook. He 
had paid Bill Jones two marbles and a 
whip lash for that book, because he had 
admired its red morocco cover and nice 
white leaves, but he had not known ex- 
actly what to do with it after he got it, 
and so had only drawn a few pictures of 
very wonderful Indians and some curi- 
ous horses in it. Now, however, he 
concluded to keep a journal ; and, sharp- 


62 


TfVO AND A HALF. 


ening his pencil, he wrote, with a great 
deal of care and effort, — 

'' Rurzolved — to be xtry good to- 
Day.” 

Mabel, seeing him so busy, came to 
his side. 

“What you doing, Josey? Let me 
see ? ” 

“ No,” said Josey. “ I ’m busy with 
my private ’counts. They ain’t for little 
girls to look at.” 

Mabel had caught sight of some of 
the feathered Indians, and thought they 
might be interesting ; but she was so 
surprised at Josey’s grand manner that 
she only opened her eyes very wide, and 
did not say a word when he slipped the 
book into his pocket. She found Josey 
surprising a good many times that day. 
When she and her whole family of dolls 
gave a concert in the back parlor, he 


EXTRA GOOD. 


63 


was very obliging in the way of scatter- 
ing handbills, introducing the singers, 
and furnishing instrumental music on 
^his tin trumpet. But he kept saying so 
gravely and so often, — 

“ Mabel, put your hair back,” “ Mabel, 
don’t stand on one foot,” or “ Mabel, 
don’t lean out the window,” that at last 
Mabel folded her small hands behind 
her and looked at him. 

“ Josey Rivers, what makes you keep 
saying, ‘ Don’t, Mabel ’ all the time, ’s if 
you was my — my grandfather or some- 
thing ? ” 

“ ’Cause I ’m the biggest, and papa 
told me to take care of you,” answered 
Josey. 

“ Humph ! You need n’t do it any 
more then,” said Mabel, shaking her 
head. “ I guess, if it had been mamma, 
she ’d have told me to take care of you.” 


64 AND A HALF. 

Josey frowned a little. He was rest- 
less and dissatisfied, and began to be 
afraid he could not carry out the resolu- 
tion he had printed so carefully ; for 
what he meant by being extra good was 
to be good in some uncommon and 
extraordinary way, and he did not 
seem to find any such way. Mabel 
wanted him for a great many plays ; 
but some he would not try at all, 
and the others he did not take much 
interest in. Any common boy could 
play ; there was nothing wonderful 
about that, and it did n’t look much 
like taking care of anybody. 

Mabel grew tired of such poor com- 
pany by and by, and wandered away by 
herself, leaving Josey to gaze out of the 
window, and be as dull as he pleased. 
His grandmother called to him now and 
then, asking him to bring in an armful 


EXTRA GOOD. 


65 


of wood, or a pail of water from the well. 
He went slowly and not very willingly. 
He hated such little-boy work. If she 
should only ask him to do some great 
thing, he should like it better, he said to 
himself. 

“ ’Dade, it ’s a dale of throuble to 
bring all the wather from the outdoor 
cisthern. I ’m sorry the kitchen pump ’s 
broke at all,” said Bridget’s voice. 

Josey listened. He had n’t heard of 
that before. 

“ What ’s the matter with the pump, 
grandma ? ” he asked. 

“ There is nothing wrong with the 
pump. It is only a hole in the pipe that 
brings the water up from the cellar cis- 
tern,” answered grandma. “ I meant to 
have asked your grandpa to mend it 
before he went away this morning. He 
could have soldered it nicely, I know. 


66 


TWO AND A HALF. 


SO that it would have been all right. 
But I forgot it.” 

“ Sure it ’s a knowin’ gintleman he is, 
as can do so many things hisself, widout 
sendin’ for a man at all,” said Bridget 
admiringly. 

“I wonder if” — began Josey, and 
then he stopped. He had almost said 
he wondered if he could not do it ; but 
he was sure grandma would only laugh, 
and say no ; so he did not finish the sen- 
tence. Bridget thought it a wonderful 
thing for a man to do. What would she 
think of a boy that could do it? Josey s 
eyes grew bright as he studied the 
subject. 

“ Josey,” said grandma, “ I wish you 
would run over to Mrs. Vale’s and get 
some milk for me. I will put a pitcher 
here on the table, and you can take it when 
you are ready. Only go pretty soon.” 


EXTRA GOOD. 67 

“ Y-e-s- ’m,” answered Josey very 
slowly. 

He did not want to do it at all. Why 
could n’t he do some real useful thing, 
like mending the pipe, instead ? He 
was certain he could do that, for he had 
watched grandpa heat his iron and melt 
the solder more than once, and it 
looked easy enough to be just fun. 
Then he began to wonder how large the 
hole was, and in what part of the pipe ; 
and, when grandma and Bridget were 
not looking, he tiptoed down into the 
cellar to see. 

^ Once there, however, he did not exam- 
ine the hole first, but hunted up the 
solder. Then he looked for the iron 
grandpa had used ; but that was no- 
where to be found. He thought a 
heated poker would do as well, though, 
and by this time he had quite decided to 


68 


TWO AND A HALF. 


do the mending himself. Grandma had 
asked him to go for the milk, but of 
course she would rather have the pipe 
fixed ; and would n’t she be surprised ? 
He could not heat the poker in the 
kitchen without some one noticing, and 
asking questions ; but there was in one 
part of the cellar an old stove that 
Bridget sometimes used on wash days, 
and he could make a fire in that. 

“ It ’s awful hard work, though,” he 
said to himself, when he had shaken out 
the ashes and got his fuel together. 
Josey was not used to making fires, and 
he grew very dusty, sooty, and tired 
before he could make this one burn. 
Just as it began to blaze nicely, he heard 
Mabel’s voice in the yard. 

“ Josey, Josey ! ” 

He did not want her calling him that 
way, and she would be sure to search 


EXTRA GOOD. 69 

until she found him ; and besides, it 
would be pleasant to have her help ; so 
he climbed up to one of the small, high 
windows, and answered softly, — 

“ Mabel ? ” 

“ Why ! what are you here for ? ” 
asked Mabel. 

“ Hush ! Don’t say anything to any- 
body, but slip down here when they ’re 
not looking,” said Josey. “ I want to 
tell you something.” 

The prospect of a secret brought 
Mabel very speedily. “ Well ? ” she 
said eagerly, when she stood by Josey’s 
side. 

“You see,” explained Josey, “grandma 
wants this pipe mended, and I ’m going 
to do it for her, all by myself, if you ’ll 
help me. We ’ll s’prise her.” 

“ Yes, we will,” said Mabel, nodding her 
head approvingly. She liked surprises. 


70 


AJVD A HALF. 


and had great faith in Josey’s ability to 
do most things. “ Oh, you Ve got a 
fire ! ” 

“ Don’t talk so loud,” whispered Josey. 
“ I built the fire so I can get .this poker 
real hot to mend with,” showing a long 
iron poker he had picked up. “I ’m 
going to heat it now. You watch, and 
then you ’ll know how, too, Mabel.” 

But heating the iron took some time, 
because Josey was so impatient that he 
pulled it out every two or three minutes, 
to see if it was beginning to turn red. 

“ Grandma tells when her flat irons 
are hot this way,” said Mabel at last, 
holding it up near her cheek. 

“ Oh, your hair, Mabel ! You ’re 
burning your hair ! ” cried Josey. 

“ My, how it frizzes up ! ” said Mabel, 
dropping the poker in dismay. “ Now 
one side will be shorter than the other. 


EXTRA GOOD. 


71 


and I ’ll look all crooked, the way I did 
when we played barber. I guess your 
old poker is hot enough for anything.” 

“ Well, I ’ll go and mend now ; only I 
don’t know where the pipe is broken,’' 
answered Josey. 

Mabel knew. She had been down- 
stairs in the morning when Bridget 
tried to pump, and had seen where the 
water ran out. 

“ And it ’s where the pipe goes through 
the coal cellar, way up high, where you 
can’t reach it, Josey.” 

It proved to be so, indeed. And 
while they talked and looked the iron 
cooled, and had to be placed in the fire 
once more. 

“ We can pile up tubs or something 
for me to stand on,” said Josey. And 
the two went busily about it. 

Hard work it was, too, lifting and 


72 


TIVO AND A HALF. 


dragging tubs and boxes into the place 
they wanted them, and trying to do it 
so very quietly that no sound of the 
moving should be heard upstairs. They 
arranged an empty box, with a tub 
turned bottom upward upon it, and a 
small cask on top of that. That would 
be quite high enough, Josey thought ; 
but lumps of coal did not make a very 
even floor for the box to stand upon, 
and it shook and tilted so that he had to 
climb up very carefully. 

“ Now bring me the poker, Mabel,” 
he whispered eagerly. 

“ Oh ! it ’s beautiful and red now,” 
said Mabel in delight, bringing the iron 
with her handkerchief wrapped about 
the handle to keep it from burning her 
fingers. 

Josey took it and melted some of the 
solder easily enough ; but he could not 


EXTRA GOOD. 73 

make it stick to the pipe. He could 
not think how grandpa managed it. 

“ I s’pect maybe you ’d better heat 
the pipe real hot,” said Mabel. 

So Josey tried that, and held the hot 
poker over the spot, until he suddenly 
discovered that he was melting the lead 
pipe, and making the hole three times as 
large as it was at first. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” he cried, starting back ; 
and with that movement the box tipped, 
and away went tub, cask, Josey, and 
poker, rattling and crashing down upon 
the coal, while Mabel screamed loudly 
enough to raise the household. 

Grandma and Bridget came running 
downstairs in great haste, and grandma 
certainly was as much surprised as any- 
body could wish. 

“ Why, Josey Rivers ! How came you 
here ? I thought you had gone for 
milk long ago.” 


74 


TWO AND A HALF. 


“ I was mending the pipe,” said Josey 
faintly. 

“ Mending the pipe ! I ’ll be thankful 
if all your bones don’t need mending 
now ! ” exclaimed grandma. 

They did not. Every bone was 
whole ; but he had bruised his back, 
cut his forehead on the coal, and 
burned his hand with grasping the hot 
poker as it fell, and was altogether so 
sober and forlorn, as he lay on the 
lounge that evening, that Mabel’s tender 
little heart was very anxious to comfort 
him. 

Could n’t you ’muse yourself with 
your private ’counts, Josey ? ” she asked 
innocently. 

Josey fairly groaned as he remem- 
bered what he had written. 

“ I don’t see why everything need 
come out this way when anybody tries 
to be extra good,” he said. 


EXTRA GOOD. 75 

Grandpa dropped his paper and 
looked over his spectacles. 

“ There is a verse in a very old book, 
Josey, which says, ‘ To obey is better 
than sacrifice ; ’ and it means that it is 
better to do faithfully the small duties 
we are told to do than to attempt 
greater good things of our own seek- 
ing — better even if it is less glory.” 

“ I don’t care anything about glory 
now,” answered Josey so meekly that 
grandma could not help smiling behind 
her knitting. 

“ Do you know what book I mean, 
Josey ? ” asked grandpa. 

“ The Bible,” said Josey. “ That verse 
was on one of my lesson cards, but I 
did n’t know what it meant till *ust 


now. 




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